A Cage of Crimson (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #5) Read Online K.F. Breene

Categories Genre: Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: Deliciously Dark Fairytales Series by K.F. Breene
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Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
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“What?” The question escaped me despite having planned on not speaking.

“My last ward-turned-queen had a lot of distractions.” He paused for a moment, one eyebrow arching.

“What?” The question leaked out again.

“Not impressed, huh? With the queen bit, I mean. Damn. I’d wanted to come back to this kingdom and gloat but I couldn’t tell anyone and blow my cover. It was a cock softener, to be sure.”

I couldn’t wrap my head around his outfit, let alone the craziness coming out of his mouth. Having been raised in one drab village after another, the last full of dreary and sullen people who were slow to smile, my brain couldn’t quite process the effervescent and boisterous man in front of me. I couldn’t do much more than continue to stare blankly.

He took that as a cue to keep talking.

“Unlike back in the day, there are no distractions in this camp. Zero! I did not expect this. I know quite a few people on this detail, and when they are off-duty, they are usually a shit-ton of fun. Not here under the alpha’s nose, though. Not even when it’s their free time. I can’t find anyone to play ‘open wide, here comes the cock’ with! It’s an absolute nightmare.” He lifted his hand like he had a drink in it. “Cheers!”

Overloaded with things that were beyond my comfortable comprehension, my attention wavered from the man and instead took in the scene around me. Tent-shaped shadows loomed within the diminishing glow of lamplight near us. Those I could see ruffling in the breeze seemed plain, splotched with dirt or whatever else.

Beyond me, barely discernible, a large shape swished its tail. A horse, obviously. The rich had such things. They wouldn’t want to walk and ruin their extravagant, shiny shoes. Or their finely tailored suit with the haphazardly placed penises, of which I’d so far counted ten.

“You know,” he said whimsically, his gaze unfocused as he contemplated his thoughts. “I thought I’d be content living a calm and orderly kind of life. After we re-took the castle, I’d been happy to give up the alcohol and shenanigans and cocks everywhere I turned. But fucking hell, with the royal baby and the good leadership and no parties or danger or terrible-decision-making-turned-shame-fucking to distract me, I have to admit, I am bored out of my mind. Sure, sneaking out to bang a bunch of randoms in the woods was fun for a while, but none of them are random anymore. I know them. Most importantly”—he quirked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow—“I know how they perform.” He spread his palm across his chest. “I am not a fuckboy trainer. Well, you know. You’re what, twenty? Thirty? I’m shit with women’s ages. Anyway, you’re too old to go giving classes on how to properly fuck. We want our men to come preconditioned. If a guy can’t figure out the right time for a hard asshole fingering, what fucking good is he, know what I mean?” He shook his head. “I just can’t help him.”

I felt my jaw slackening, my rage melting away into brain-buzzing confusion. It wasn’t just his jacket that was colorful—and incredibly crass. I’d never heard anyone speak like this, not to mention what he was talking about. Orgies? Asshole fingering? What in the . . .?

“So I figured,” he went on, “that I might join this detail and see the sights a little. A couple of the guys who’d agreed to go are really hot and had seemed somewhat cock-curious, so I figured I had that going for me. And if not, I could bang my way through the kingdom of my birth, you know? Maybe meet an old chum and rub my new position in their face. But that damn alpha runs a tight ship—understandable, but still, I’ve banged next to no strangers. And the cock-curious, you ask? They just wanted me to play with their dongs. They had no interest in reciprocation. Fuckers. Let the ladies deal with them, as I’ve got no time for one-sided sword fighting.”

He was clearly distracted with his, uh, predicament. This was the perfect time for me to work at my bindings and figure out a way to escape. If I was freed, I could easily knock that spear aside and then swing my hand or foot at his face. He didn’t seem like a person who was ready for spontaneous combat. He certainly wasn’t a man who could run fast with those shoes. I could knock him aside and make a break for it.

The problem was, even if I could get free without his noticing, I didn’t have a lantern. Those in the camp were all hanging relatively high, too high to quickly grab. Without light, I wouldn’t get far. If I didn’t knock him out—and it was unlikely I could given I didn’t have a weapon—he would likely, and probably carefully, take off his colorful attire, shift into a wolf or other four-legged creature, and follow my scent trail. He’d be on me before I found the edge of the camp.


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